“Something strange and wondrous begins to happen when one spends stretches of time
in solitude, in the company of trees, far from the bustle of the human world with
its echo chamber of judgment and opinions – a kind of rerooting in one’s deepest self-knowledge,
a relearning of how to simply be oneself, one’s most authentic self.”
— Mario Popova
its echo chamber of judgment and opinions – a kind of rerooting in one’s deepest self-knowledge,
a relearning of how to simply be oneself, one’s most authentic self.”
— Mario Popova
The stars shone brightly through the mesh of my tent all night, even with the smoke in the air. Outside in the milky dawn, I noticed a sickly yellow glow in the eastern sky, so the haziness remained. Morning was cheerful and almost cool, rebounding nicely from being overcooked the day before. Birds were singing with gusto, not yet chastened by the heat of the day. I ate my simple breakfast out on “the patio,” where I could watch the lazy young trout swim in circles and kiss the underside of the glistening mirror. The couple across the lake went for a brisk, early swim, and after a few minutes, their ripples passed by my position, breaking the reflections into fractal patterns of green and white.
It soon became apparent that all my neighbors were packing up for an early departure. Boo hoo! I will be left alone here in paradise! While they fiddled and fussed with their stuff, I focused on my plans for the day: rest in the shade a lot, and strategically visit the nearby attractions when they were in the shadows. Nothing as ambitious as rolling up a sleeping bag for me! I moved to my first spot, where I could survey the exodus. The first to pass by were the couple with their dog, all geared up for the trek down to their car. We exchanged pleasant greetings, and I wished them “only good steps.” The other groups left in short order, and I was all alone before 9 am.
I packed some gorp and jerky, filled my water bottle, and headed down to Wee Bear to read the story of the developing day. On the way, I cruised the campsites to make sure they were clean, and the fire was out cold. Later, I poured lots of water inside the stone circle, just to be sure. My morning agenda included a self-guided tour of all the shady spots around the little tarn, but the sky was an ugly shade of gray, spoiling all the views, and the air was becoming sticky and hot. Queen Shasta could only be seen dimly, and it became obvious that the best sightseeing was to be had back at Little Bear, where the breezes were cooled by a large body of water. So, I went back to relax and read.
I had brought the right reading material with me, as I often did. Return of the Bird Tribes was written almost 40 years before, and Ken Carey is gone from this earth now, but the messages he received that forms the basis of the book are still very much pertinent in our present global situation. Especially so in America, where dark forces are attempting to hijack our democracy, and turn in into a self-serving platform for greed and power. This year’s election would be of much greater importance than the usual political pageantry. It could be a significant turning point in human history! I prayed for the spirits of the Bird Tribes, which are ever present (especially in this wilderness), that they might influence the outcome of the choices we make as a country with our free will.
As the day got hotter the lake breezes perked up, gathering strength in an attempt to push out the hot air. It became uncomfortably hot in the direct sun, but remained about 80 degrees in the shade. So I moved my stare chair often, watching the ripples play to and fro across the lake’s surface, changing direction frequently, but always delivering cool air to my chosen spots. Thank goodness somebody finally fixed the air conditioning! I hoped that this meant the heat dome was dissipating across the entire region, as the lake Devas were doing their best to restore equilibrium and harmony to this magical basin, as they have done for millennia. The spirits of the water, air, earth, and yes… FIRE are always working to bring perfection to creation. There, in the remnants of an ancient. blown-out volcano, I felt they were succeeding spectacularly, and I cheered them on.
One needs time alone in a place such as Little Bear Lake, with no predetermined agenda, to feel the subtle energies to which I am referring. I’m sure there are other enchanted, magnificent examples of blessed natural beauty in this world, but for me at the time, that was where it all came together. It’s a matter of making the most out of the natural world that one experiences, wherever that is. I profusely thanked and honored the deities that created and maintained my personal cathedral of natural beauty; this Holy Land of idyllic charms. My soul has needed to use this locality as a touchstome many times in my life, and I silently thanked my father for introducing me to this area. Even though it was incidental to his own selfish agenda at the time, it has given me so much throughout the years! I have come here to celebrate, to grieve, to heal, to ask forgiveness, and to bless my transitions. I never know which trip will be my last, so I try to make the best out of each an every one. That’s why the 2- or 3-day backpacking trips just don’t satisfy me. There is so much effort involved: planning, procuring, packing, portaging, and playing with all the food and gear one has to bring, that sufficient time needs to pass to let all that recede into the background, and let the destination itself take the central role in one’s consciousness.
Since early morning, I’d had this entire magnificent basin to myself, which only enhanced the blissful experience tenfold. The sun had moved past its apex by then, and the air temperature was in the nineties. I decided to give Bumblebee Springs another visit – or just past it, where the couple had camped with their dog on a ledge of the great wall. By then it was in deep shade, and I knew that the lake was very deep over there, which usually prevented the rocks from overheating. I picked through the bushes, skirted the fast-melting snow drift, clambered over the rocks, and stepped carefully through the still-developing mini-meadow beneath the spring. On the other side, the rocks and trees had been broken up by centuries of ice and wind, making for a very rugged landscape. Any flat ground is covered with moist carpets of heather and moss. Young hemlocks thrust into the light at odd angles, doing their best to find a place to live in the chaos. Altogether. it was a wild and beautiful site they had chosen, and the tent site was just a narrow ledge of rock. Two occupants would surely have to snuggle close to keep from rolling off, and I was sure that had been part of their plan!
Most of the lake’s breezes blow directly at this southern shore, so it’s much cooler, and lush with greenery. Bumblebee Springs itself would need a few more weeks to fully develop its charms. I saw that the famous Elf Throne seat was covered with debris, but it could be easily restored. Everywhere, I could see the fiddleheads of ferns, and little shoots of grasses and flowering plants, poking through the accumulated debris from the receding snow pack. Due to all the freshness of transition, and the burgeoning of life on that shoreline, there was an inordinate number of insects hanging around, and they all wanted a piece of ME! I was officially the only sweaty, fragrant source of salt and protein in the entire basin at the time, and all the arthropods knew it! They were certainly putting my newfound tolerance to the test, with their buzzing, biting, pestering, and zooming all around the mossy spot I had chosen. I stood up when I felt the underlying moisture soaking into my shorts. My intent at the time was simply to wait out the sun in that relatively cool and comfortable place, until hunger drove me back to camp for dinner (before the mosquitoes come out, when I would become the dinner). I decided to return a little early to the spot shade among the hot rocks, where the bugs were less enthusiastic.
I packed some gorp and jerky, filled my water bottle, and headed down to Wee Bear to read the story of the developing day. On the way, I cruised the campsites to make sure they were clean, and the fire was out cold. Later, I poured lots of water inside the stone circle, just to be sure. My morning agenda included a self-guided tour of all the shady spots around the little tarn, but the sky was an ugly shade of gray, spoiling all the views, and the air was becoming sticky and hot. Queen Shasta could only be seen dimly, and it became obvious that the best sightseeing was to be had back at Little Bear, where the breezes were cooled by a large body of water. So, I went back to relax and read.
I had brought the right reading material with me, as I often did. Return of the Bird Tribes was written almost 40 years before, and Ken Carey is gone from this earth now, but the messages he received that forms the basis of the book are still very much pertinent in our present global situation. Especially so in America, where dark forces are attempting to hijack our democracy, and turn in into a self-serving platform for greed and power. This year’s election would be of much greater importance than the usual political pageantry. It could be a significant turning point in human history! I prayed for the spirits of the Bird Tribes, which are ever present (especially in this wilderness), that they might influence the outcome of the choices we make as a country with our free will.
As the day got hotter the lake breezes perked up, gathering strength in an attempt to push out the hot air. It became uncomfortably hot in the direct sun, but remained about 80 degrees in the shade. So I moved my stare chair often, watching the ripples play to and fro across the lake’s surface, changing direction frequently, but always delivering cool air to my chosen spots. Thank goodness somebody finally fixed the air conditioning! I hoped that this meant the heat dome was dissipating across the entire region, as the lake Devas were doing their best to restore equilibrium and harmony to this magical basin, as they have done for millennia. The spirits of the water, air, earth, and yes… FIRE are always working to bring perfection to creation. There, in the remnants of an ancient. blown-out volcano, I felt they were succeeding spectacularly, and I cheered them on.
One needs time alone in a place such as Little Bear Lake, with no predetermined agenda, to feel the subtle energies to which I am referring. I’m sure there are other enchanted, magnificent examples of blessed natural beauty in this world, but for me at the time, that was where it all came together. It’s a matter of making the most out of the natural world that one experiences, wherever that is. I profusely thanked and honored the deities that created and maintained my personal cathedral of natural beauty; this Holy Land of idyllic charms. My soul has needed to use this locality as a touchstome many times in my life, and I silently thanked my father for introducing me to this area. Even though it was incidental to his own selfish agenda at the time, it has given me so much throughout the years! I have come here to celebrate, to grieve, to heal, to ask forgiveness, and to bless my transitions. I never know which trip will be my last, so I try to make the best out of each an every one. That’s why the 2- or 3-day backpacking trips just don’t satisfy me. There is so much effort involved: planning, procuring, packing, portaging, and playing with all the food and gear one has to bring, that sufficient time needs to pass to let all that recede into the background, and let the destination itself take the central role in one’s consciousness.
Since early morning, I’d had this entire magnificent basin to myself, which only enhanced the blissful experience tenfold. The sun had moved past its apex by then, and the air temperature was in the nineties. I decided to give Bumblebee Springs another visit – or just past it, where the couple had camped with their dog on a ledge of the great wall. By then it was in deep shade, and I knew that the lake was very deep over there, which usually prevented the rocks from overheating. I picked through the bushes, skirted the fast-melting snow drift, clambered over the rocks, and stepped carefully through the still-developing mini-meadow beneath the spring. On the other side, the rocks and trees had been broken up by centuries of ice and wind, making for a very rugged landscape. Any flat ground is covered with moist carpets of heather and moss. Young hemlocks thrust into the light at odd angles, doing their best to find a place to live in the chaos. Altogether. it was a wild and beautiful site they had chosen, and the tent site was just a narrow ledge of rock. Two occupants would surely have to snuggle close to keep from rolling off, and I was sure that had been part of their plan!
Most of the lake’s breezes blow directly at this southern shore, so it’s much cooler, and lush with greenery. Bumblebee Springs itself would need a few more weeks to fully develop its charms. I saw that the famous Elf Throne seat was covered with debris, but it could be easily restored. Everywhere, I could see the fiddleheads of ferns, and little shoots of grasses and flowering plants, poking through the accumulated debris from the receding snow pack. Due to all the freshness of transition, and the burgeoning of life on that shoreline, there was an inordinate number of insects hanging around, and they all wanted a piece of ME! I was officially the only sweaty, fragrant source of salt and protein in the entire basin at the time, and all the arthropods knew it! They were certainly putting my newfound tolerance to the test, with their buzzing, biting, pestering, and zooming all around the mossy spot I had chosen. I stood up when I felt the underlying moisture soaking into my shorts. My intent at the time was simply to wait out the sun in that relatively cool and comfortable place, until hunger drove me back to camp for dinner (before the mosquitoes come out, when I would become the dinner). I decided to return a little early to the spot shade among the hot rocks, where the bugs were less enthusiastic.
Later, I made the decision to return on Tuesday a day early, because I had to return Locan’s car to Sacramento first, and Joy would have to come and pick me up. Altogether, I’d done what I wanted to do on this trip. I sorted out my priorities in life, and prepared my mind for whatever the universe decided to do with me after losing gainful employment. One more day of lounging comfortably in the shade would provide ample time for me to finish my book, which I was finding to be an effective prescription for what ailed me at the time. I intended to start packing tomorrow night, so the following morning I could just roll up and head down the trail during the coolest part of the day. Meanwhile, I still had the late afternoon and evening to enjoy reflection and solitude at a beautiful alpine lake!
The smoke haze had slowly retreated to the northeast during the day, and there appeared to be a small cloud forming high above the valley… the first one on this trip! The rest of my intended rest & relaxation was hijacked by insects (especially flies), who were also glad for the clearing air and cooling temperatures. I really tried to employ my still-developing feelings of tolerance for the little beasties, but there were just too damn many of them! They got into everything, and aggressively pestered me with their selfish sense of entitlement. If I waved them away, they just came back over and over again. Later, the vampire bugs joined the swarm, biting my hands and neck before I could get on the repellent. (I just wanted to eat first, without that nasty smell!) So I retired to my tent early, just to enjoy the ever-cooling peace and read my book. Tomorrow would be more of the same, I supposed, as the forecast had predicted triple digits all week!
From the safety and calmness inside my tent, I could see the Tiki Man and the upper edge of the forest on Cheops were all lit up with an amber glow. The sweet night birds started singing a little earlier than usual, probably glad for the break in the heat. Gentle breezes still frolicked over the lake, delivering delicious caresses of coolness to my tired legs, which were safely exposed inside the protective mesh of my tent. Legions of vampire bugs were performing their Night of the Living Dead maneuvers just inches away, whining in their impotent frustration. Meanwhile, I was safe and snug in my air-cooled pocket of safety, just farting in their general direction. At last, I saw a bat fly by, and I cheered him on with gusto. The world needs more bats!
The smoke haze had slowly retreated to the northeast during the day, and there appeared to be a small cloud forming high above the valley… the first one on this trip! The rest of my intended rest & relaxation was hijacked by insects (especially flies), who were also glad for the clearing air and cooling temperatures. I really tried to employ my still-developing feelings of tolerance for the little beasties, but there were just too damn many of them! They got into everything, and aggressively pestered me with their selfish sense of entitlement. If I waved them away, they just came back over and over again. Later, the vampire bugs joined the swarm, biting my hands and neck before I could get on the repellent. (I just wanted to eat first, without that nasty smell!) So I retired to my tent early, just to enjoy the ever-cooling peace and read my book. Tomorrow would be more of the same, I supposed, as the forecast had predicted triple digits all week!
From the safety and calmness inside my tent, I could see the Tiki Man and the upper edge of the forest on Cheops were all lit up with an amber glow. The sweet night birds started singing a little earlier than usual, probably glad for the break in the heat. Gentle breezes still frolicked over the lake, delivering delicious caresses of coolness to my tired legs, which were safely exposed inside the protective mesh of my tent. Legions of vampire bugs were performing their Night of the Living Dead maneuvers just inches away, whining in their impotent frustration. Meanwhile, I was safe and snug in my air-cooled pocket of safety, just farting in their general direction. At last, I saw a bat fly by, and I cheered him on with gusto. The world needs more bats!